Never disappoints. Anniversary hike two and half weeks later. Procrastinating meant the daughts could join us. Wonderland Trail to just beyond Summerland campground. Panhandle Gap proper will have to wait. 8-9 miles of unadulterated fun. All is okay with the world. For now.
A few friends and I heeded John Muir’s advice this weekend.
Saturday we wondered for a wee bit on the Wonderland Trail where it intersects with the White River. Sunday we went long, looping the Burroughs Mountain Trail from Sunrise. If you’ve never done it, add it to your list. I felt very fortunate to live where we do. And to be alive.
Bonus picture from the niece’s July wedding in Colorado. Taken by Jeanette Byrnes of Jeanette Byrnes photography fame. If you’re looking for a photog, better hire her before she gets too expensive.
1. Dedicated bike lanes like in Victoria, British Columbia.
Living in the Upper Lefthand Corner of the United States requires a tradeoff that is difficult at times. You must endure dampness and darkness for eight months of the year in exchange for four months of supernatural light and unparalleled beauty. Right now we’re in the sweet spot of the four months meaning there’s no other place on the planet I’d rather be.
During this morning’s run in Priest Point Park I was intermittently blanketed by the sun’s brilliant radiance as I moved steadily through the forest. Shirtless and sweaty at 7a, I was profoundly appreciative of July. More so than I ever would be if it wasn’t for the damp and dark runs during the eight contrasting months. The contrast is key.
Mid-day, on Mount Rainier with family, the sun ricocheted off the snow surrounding Snow Lake.
Tonight, transfixed by the fading sun on the western horizon, I will sit on the deck eating popcorn and drinking a recovery beer with family. Sunset is at 9:08p.m., but it won’t get dark until 9:45-10p.m. Must store as much Vitamin D as possible.
As a visitor you probably wouldn’t get it, you’d probably say, “Yeah sure, the weather, the trees, the water, they’re all nice, but really, no need to get all worked up about it.” To which I’d say, “I’m selling it short. I can’t do justice to the blessed light that gives me an unspeakable joy and sustains me through the dark.” At which point you’d just slowly back away not knowing what to make of me. Which I would understand and not hold against you. At all.
Addendum: For those keeping score at home, the “find the spelling errors in the initial draft” scorecard currently reads, Cal Lutheran 1, St. Olaf 1, Carleton 0.
The wife, dog, and I went on a nice hike east of Seattle Saturday morn. Afterwards, fired off pictures to the daughters, both of whom are ensconced in the upper Midwest. The images created a firestorm of ohhhs and ahhhs. When they admitted to being jealous, I replied, “Move to Seattle.”
Then I thought what about a media campaign designed to accentuate the PNW’s natural beauty. Here is next weekend’s salvo.
Thirty plus of us started at the North Rim at 7a.m. The group consisted mostly of Federal Highway administrator friends of Dan, Dan, the Transportation Man. Pre-trip, I asked him about the weather. He said he’d never seen a cloud on his previous three hikes.
Within the first 500 meters, lightening danced around us, hail fell from the sky, and we saw a dead mule covered with a tarp. The hail turned to light rain and we enjoyed cloud cover off and on throughout the day. The Canyon vets said it was about 25 degrees cooler than normal. I may have never made it if it was 100+.
Hiking the canyon is an enigma, your spirit is lifted while your body is punished. I had my bike computer in my pocket, but its global positioning system was cutting in and out meaning the mileage was off, but the first half descent of 6,600′ seemed spot on. The toughest point for me was the middle because as I descended my lower back got progressively tighter to the point where I thought it was going to completely seize up.
There are no rescues in the Canyon, once you drop in, you’re committed to the full meal deal. I took some comfort in the fact that I was among the first few hikers in our group meaning if my back completely gave out, people would find me on the trail and provide a proper burial. I also rolled my ankle at one point, took a wrong turn, did some ill-advised bushwhacking that added distance, and nearly ran out of water before lunch at Phantom Ranch.
I was not hiking particularly quickly, but I spent the first half of the day enjoying wonderfully long stretches without stopping for more than a few seconds for a picture or water. I reached the South Rim at 6:15p and guess that I was moving for about 9:45 of that 11:15. I enjoyed a longer lunch than normal, about an hour, because Dan and others rolled in just as I was beginning to feel semi-normal.
I used the additional time to stretch my back. The ascent was unrelenting and damn steep. I was conscious of how uniquely beautiful my surroundings were about 75% of the time. The rest of the time, I was so shelled that all I could do was focus on the next twenty meters.
There’s something wonderfully primitive about walking long distances. Maybe because it has been the dominant mode of transportation for the vast majority of world history. I dig my carbon fiber bicycle, but it doesn’t connect me to the ancient past in the way that walking long distances does. And in the Grand Canyon the ancient past is in stereo because your constantly surrounded by unrivaled geologic wonders.
Thanks be to God for the health to walk into and up out of the grandest of canyons.
Despite my charming personality, my university students have a very hard time unplugging from their phones and the internet for the length of a class session—one hour and forty-five minutes. I just did it for 100 hours. I know, total badass.
My digital sabbatical was forced in the sense that I didn’t volunteer to participate. Some families from church were going to Holden Village in Washington State’s Cascade mountains, a four hour car trip, seventy minute boat ride, and slow 11 mile uphill bus ride away. They asked if we wanted to join them. Betrothed wanted to go. Happy wife, happy life.
Actually, I dig Holden. We had been once before, about ten summers ago. Beautiful setting in a dramatic, heavily forested mountain valley. Simple living. Eat, hike, read, pray, socialize, repeat. This time there was 4-5 feet of snow.
1) It’s good for introverts to (interpersonally) stretch on occasion. As a card carrying introvert, I like solitude. At Holden I actually have to talk to other human beings at meals, on group hikes, at church services, and in the evenings. I enjoy socializing in moderation.
2) One can read mad amounts when unplugged. I took an unread novel on my iPad and decided to leave behind a hardcopy nonfiction book I’ve just started. Mistake. Thanks to some reading marathons, I blew through the 300 page novel and then scavenged for additional reading material including three sample chapters previously downloaded to the Pad and the cookbook that derailed my reading in the middle of last year. Then I found and read a recent issue of Sports Illustrated. I often wish I read more. All I have to do is step back from the laptop and television.
3) Group living is more exasperating, but ultimately, more enjoyable. One of our carpooling friends decided on the way to the boat to stop and visit her sister in Wenatchee on the way home. “Your kidding me,” I thought to myself. When we turned away from home for that detour I was running low on patience and wishing we had driven separately. But the visit was short and nice. The sister’s husband sells apples all over the world. He had just returned from Germany and Italy and explained how he had tried unsuccessfully to visit a large (10,000 boxes) new customer in Libya. The apple snack was delicious and the family was personable and interesting. I’m glad I met them even if we got home an hour later. We also would have lost out on a lot of joking and good conversation if we had driven separately.
4) While unplugged, the world will continue pretty much as is. In the summer, I think the boat runs daily, so there’s always a day-old New York Times in the village library, but last week there was only our Friday and Monday boat arrival and departure, so no new papers, causing a serious uptick in blood pressure. To make matters worse, our carpoolers drove all the way home without turning on National Public Radio. What if North Korea nuked the South I wondered? Did UCLA beat Stanford? Did Christine Gregoire get a new job in the Administration? Alas, the Russian asteroid and the South African para-athlete girlfriend’s shooting and death were still headline news. It was as if a global news gatekeeper was saying, “Okay, nothing to look at here, move along.”
5) Teenagers are prone to exaggeration. Everything was going fine until Saturday night Contra dancing. Shit, sounds like something Oliver North might have done in the mid-80s. The GalPal was a tad excited. After sticking a fork in my novel, I dragged myself to the dining hall where the tables had all been pushed aside. Betrothed and Seventeen were having a great time. After their dance, Seventeen made a bee-line for me and said, “You HAVE to dance with mom! It will MAKE her life!” “Nahhhh.” “No SERIOUSLY Dad, it will MAKE her life!” Well, who knew, it turns out I have mad Contra dancing skills. And now, apparently, Betrothed can die in peace. I will spare you the photo album and video library of the event.
6) Teenagers aren’t just funny looking, they’re funny. I may have doctored the whiteboard next to the teen’s door. Shortly afterwards they returned serve with this salvo, which as you can see, I doctored.
7) In ping-pong, as in life, quit while you’re ahead. The first night I opened a can of whup ass on the GalPal. We rolled through 7-0 and it ended up something like 21-13. The second night, she also made a stirring comeback, but ultimately succumbed, 22-20. The third night, somehow, she couldn’t find me.
8) I’m a legend in my own mind. Despite turning a year older a week ago, I can still reverse slam dunk with a backpack on.
How long could you completely unplug? I’m guessing somewhere between 1 hour and forty-five minutes and 100 hours? Don’t hurt yourself trying to replicate my feat, but do consider a Holden Village get-away. It’s great for the soul. You don’t have to be Lutheran or even Christian, and you can decide how little or how much to participate in Village life. The lodging is rustic, but clean and comfortable enough for a few days or weeks. The food is mostly vegetarian, plentiful, and tasty. And don’t forget, if you volunteer to scoop ice-cream, you get a free serving afterwards.